Broken Peices
by Maddie-the-Cattie
Summary: Sam knew, that, for each of the millions of peices of the shattered picture-frame, she had made a mistake in life. And she regretted every single one of them...


**This story is what I see when I listen to this song. Basically... I like it. That's all that matters... IT IS A ONESHOT. iCarly belongs to Mr. Dan Schneider! Not me. If it were me, Seddie would've already happened... So, read on! All lyrics are from the song _Hate Me _by Blue October. Oh, and if I hear any freakin' complaining about who the waiter is, I will be very upset. *nods***

_Hate me today,_

_Hate me tomorrow,_

_Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you..._

Sam laid in her bed in an old, white T-shirt and boxer shorts. The only light came in from the city's lights through the window. You could just barely see the copper gleam off a stray tear trickling down her face...

In her hands, Sam held a pretty glass photo-frame. You couldn't see what the photo inside the frame was in the darkness, but Sam knew it was a photo of her and her two best friends, Carly and Freddie. She knew that they were simply goofing off that day, so many years ago... In a much more light-hearted time of her life...

She knew there was no Carly to go to anymore... When she was sad, or angry... Or just simply confused. Sam knew she had no best friend to go to when she needed one anymore.

She also knew that the events after that tragic day in the hospital had completely torn her and Freddie apart.

For some reason, this angered Sam, and she hurled the glass frame at the wall with such force it shattered into a million glittering pieces.

It took Sam a moment to realize what she had just done, but when she did, she cried. Hard. Sam knew that, for every tiny piece of broken glass that lay scattered around her floor, she had made a mistake that had cost her dearly. And she regretted every single one of them...

_I have to block out thoughts of you so I don't lose my head,_

_They crawl in like a cockroach leaving babies in my bed,_

_Dropping little reels of tape to remind me that I'm alone,_

_Playing movies in my head that make a porno feel like home,_

_There's a burning in my pride, a nervous bleeding in my brain..._

_An ounce of peace is all I want for you. Will you never call again?_

_And will you never say that you love me just to put it in my face?_

_And will you never try to reach me? It is I that wanted space..._

As Sam laid in her bed that night, Freddie tossed and turned in his sleep. He started to moan and talk in his sleep. "No... I told her... not... to..." This nightmare Freddie was having lasted for quite a while... At least about 45 minutes... Until, finally, Freddie moaned one last time and jumped up.

Freddie sat there for a moment, thanking the lord above that it was just a dream. Then he pushed the blankets off of him, got up, and walked into his restroom. He turned on the light and squinted in the sudden light.

Once his eyes were adjusted to the light, Freddie stood in front of mirror. He didn't recognize himself. Freddie was clammy. He was pale. His eyes had dark, dark shadows under them... And he looked like he needed a shave.

"God, what have you done to me?...," Freddie asked some unknown force. His voice was hoarse, like he really needed a drink of water.

He turned on the cold water, and splashed it on his face, eliminating any feeling of grogginess he had.

Freddie took a deep breath, and walked into his kitchen. He flipped the lights on, glancing around. He turned on the coffee-maker, and made himself a small pot of coffee. He grabbed a coffee cup from his cabinet, and poured himself a glass. Not bothering with sugar or creamer, Freddie sat down on his sofa, sipping on his coffee.

Freddie had talked to Spencer recently. Spencer was doing well. He'd gotten married. He'd gotten a great job designing sculptures for a children's museum. In the early hours of the morning, Freddie couldn't remember which one...

His mind wandered to his old friend, his "former," fiancee, Sam. He wondered... How is she? What is she doing for a living? ...Is she even still alive?

A numb feeling overcame Freddie at that thought. He refused to think it.

As he took another sip of coffee, he eyed his cell-phone, which just too conveniently had to be sitting right there on the coffee table...

_I'm sober now for 3 whole months,_

_It's one accomplishment that you helped me with,_

_The one thing that always tore us apart is the one thing I won't touch again,_

_In a sick way I want to thank you for holding my head up late at night,_

_While I was busy waging wars on myself, you were trying to stop the fight,_

_You never doubted my warped opinions on things like suicidal hate,_

_You made me compliment myself when it was way too hard to take,_

_So I'll drive so fucking far away that I never cross your mind,_

_And do whatever it takes in your heart to leave me behind..._

Meanwhile, at 4:57 in the morning, Sam decided to go on and get out of her house. She got up, threw on a black sweater and blue-jeans over her sleepwear, grabbed her coat, phone, and keys on the way out, and climbed into her car. She started it, and drove off, headed in no particular direction at all.

She drove for a while. Eventually, she made it into town. She passed many buildings—restaurants, stores, malls, businesses... One building she passed, an all-night bar, made her stop for a moment and think about something... It had happened a couple years ago, and, now that she thought about it, Sam realized it had happened at that place...

Freddie had told her what had happened that night, not in too much detail, but enough to give her an idea of how she had been...

_Sam and Freddie were 26. It was a month after the tragic death of their friend, Carly. The two sat together at a bar located in the city of Seattle._

_And Sam was drunk. Very drunk. She was lucky Freddie was there, or one of two things could have happened to her that night—She could have died in a drunk-driving accident, or, if that hadn't had happened, she would've been arrested for driving under the influence. _

_Freddie had only had one drink that night—Nowhere near enough to make him drunk. As Sam was asking for her seventh glass of liquor that night, Freddie stopped her, much to the bar-tender's relief, and said, "I think you've had enough tonight. Let's go home, okay?"_

_Sam had, after moderate arguing, agreed, and Freddie drove her home. Fortunately, he wasn't pulled over..._

Sam remembered quite clearly what happened the next morning...

Remember those shattered pieces of the picture-frame? This was one of them...

_Sam woke up the next morning with a horrid hangover. She remembered Freddie holding her head in his lap. She remembered him talking to her soothingly about different, unimportant things..._

_Eventually, after she'd woken up fully, he whispered, "I hate it when you drink like that. I really do..."_

_She can't remember what either of them had said after that, up to a certain point, but, for some weird reason, Freddie's comment ticked her off. Who was he to tell her she can't drink, and get rid of some of the sadness that Carly's death had left her in?!_

_The last memory she had had of him was of him saying, as he slipped of his _wedding band, _"I just can't do this, Sam. Not if you are going to keep on the way you've been doing..." With that, Freddie dropped the ring on the floor, and walked out..._

Sam's hand subconsciously traveled to her coat pocket, where she'd kept the ring after so many years. Thinking those memories, she decided against going to that bar, but instead pulled into a little 24-hour-diner across the street.

Once inside, Sam sat down at one of the stools to the, "bar." She pulled out the ring from her pocket and started fiddling with it. She let her mind wander...

"Can I help you?" came a rather... familiar... voice.

Sam glanced up. Standing in front of her, on the other side of the, "bar," was a man... He was probably only about a few years younger than she... Familiar, but Sam couldn't place it. He held a washcloth and was wiping down the table.

"Um, can I just have a water?" Sam asked.

"Sure." The waiter made Sam a refreshing cup of ice-water.

Sam let her thoughts drift back to her previous thoughts as she sipped nonchalantly on her water. The waiter continued cleaning the, "bar." He kept glancing at Sam, like she, too, was familiar to him.

"If you don't mind me asking," the waiter said to Sam, "is there something bothering you? You seem troubled."

Sam sighed. "It's nothing...," she lied. "It's just some... Mistakes that I've made..."

"Does it have anything to do with a certain someone?" the waiter asked. Sam looked at him quizzically. She was starting to get suspicious of this guy...

"Well, yes... He was my fiancee... But something happened one night. It was actually right across the street..."

"Ah..."

Sam fiddled with Freddie's ring again. "Have you just ever... Had a problem, that you wouldn't admit to... But you knew that... You needed to work on it?"

The waiter chuckled. "I think we all have. Why?"

"Well... See, almost a decade back, my best friend died in a car accident... And, for so many months after that... I was a wreck. My fiancee and I... We had been engaged before she died... And I had a drinking problem... He couldn't take it... And he left. I think that that's what made it click in my mind that... I needed to fix the problem, you know?"

The waiter nodded. "Have you talked to him since?"

Sam shook her head. "No, actually... We haven't talked since then... Except for when he came back for his things... That was different, though... I think he knew what he was doing... There was no way we could have lasted; we're too... _different_!"

The waiter stared at Sam. "How do you know he doesn't still love you?"

Sam stared at him. "We haven't talked in nearly ten _years_... I'm sure he's found someone else..."

Sam started thinking her own thoughts for a moment, then asked, "What was _your_ problem?"

"I had a grudge against... Have you ever heard of iCarly?"

Sam looked up so suddenly, it startled the waiter.

"What?"

"iCarly?... Nobody's even... Asked anything about that... In years..."

For a moment, Sam was obliged to tell the waiter that she was _the _Sam Puckett. But her instincts told her not to...

"Well, of course not. Several years ago, I came to find out that... The girl who I had the grudge against had died, in quite the same way your friend had died."

"Exactly why did you hold a grudge against this girl?"

"It's stupid, it really is, but it was because she shoved toponod spread in my face—When I'd tried to kiss her. I was only eleven at the time..."

Sam gaped at the waiter. "_Neville_?"

Neville stared at her.

"Neville _Pafferman_?!"

"How did you—Wait... _Sam_?..."

The two stared at each other for a short while.

"How should we handle this?..." Sam asked Neville, remembering very clearly how he had hated her and her friends... But that was years ago... Could he have changed?...

"Well," Neville replied, "We could either act like children and continue hating each other the way we did before, or, we can forgive each other, and be friends. Which one do you like better?"

Sam smiled. "I think I like the friend idea better."

Neville smiled, then went back to cleaning the table.

Just then, Sam's phone rang. When she pulled it out of her pocket and looked at who was calling, Sam's heart skipped a beat.

"Oh my... Oh my God..."

Neville looked at her quizzically. "What?"

Sam gestured for him to be quiet. Then she answered her phone.

"Hello?"

Sure enough, there was the unmistakable voice of her fiancee, Freddie.

"Hey, Sam... I... I think we need to talk."

"Um, yeah... I think so, too..."

"Uh, wait... Did I wake you up?... Where are you?"

"No, you're fine... I'm at a diner... Across the street from... Well, you-know-where..."

"Sam, you aren't--"

"No, I'm not." Sam's voice had a bit of a growl in it then.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive, Freddie."

Neville's head shot up. Sam gestured for him to remain quiet.

"Well, then... Can you come home? I'll meet you there," Freddie asked.

Sam nodded, then remembered she was on the phone, and said, "Yeah, of course..."

Freddie replied, "I'll see you there—Bye."

"Bye..."

Sam hung up, then Neville asked, "Freddie's your _fiancee_?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, shocking, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah—It always seemed that, if I wasn't there, you were torturing Freddie."

"Well, that was us... Then. Now... I'm not sure where we are. But I'm about to find out... So I need to go home. I'll... See you around, I guess." Sam stood up, handed Neville a dollar-fifty for the water, then walked out, waving bye.

_And with a sad heart I say bye to you and wave,_

_Kicking shadows on the street for every mistake that I had made,_

_And like a baby boy, I never was a man,_

_Until I saw your blue eyes crying and I held your face in my hand,_

_And then I fell down yelling, "Make it go away!_

_Just make a smile come back and shine just like it used to be!"_

_And then she whispered, "How can you do this to me?"_

Sam was relieved to find Freddie at her house. She'd thought this was all a dream... Maybe it was, and Sam just didn't realize it.

Freddie climbed out of his car when he saw Sam pull in her driveway. He now had a clean shave, and was dressed. Sam stared at him, taking everything in...

"You look tired...," Freddie remarked.

Sam replied, "So do you..."

"Let's go in," Freddie said. "It's kind of chilly out..." He shivered once.

Sam and Freddie walked into Sam's home, and then Freddie said, "Listen... I think, right now, we need to be honest with each other."

Sam was silent for a moment, then she said, "You know, you really hurt me."

Freddie stared at her, guilt written all over his expression.

"I just—When you left, I wondered, 'How can you _leave_ me?' I mean, I know we were both having a hard time, but..." Sam trailed off to silence.

"Sam, I regretted that ever since... I just—Regret it. I wish we could go back in time."

"If we could go back in time, I would have saved Carly."

"Yeah, I know... But, unfortunately, we can't. So, right now... I want to know... how have you fared?"

Sam replied, "I think that, when you left, you hurt me... But you also helped me. When you left, I knew I had a problem... And I fixed it. I slipped up, every once in awhile--"

"Of course," Freddie said, sympathetically.

"--but, in general, I tried to stay away."

Sam stared at the floor.

Freddie took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Sam... I shouldn't have done what I did. And now I know that... I'm not trying to pretend that nothing happened. I just want to fix it."

When Sam looked up, Freddie was surprised to see her crying.

She reached into her coat pocket, and pulled out the ring.

Freddie's eyes widened. "You kept it?"

Sam nodded. Freddie stepped forward and embraced his love. "You know I was never able to fall in love again, right?"

"Me, neither...," Sam replied.

When they pulled away, Sam gently took Freddie's hand, and slipped the ring on his finger.

Freddie kissed her on her forehead.

"Come on... Let's go to sleep."

Sam nodded in agreement, and the two went into Sam's room and went to sleep.

_Hate me today,_

_Hate me tomorrow,_

_Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you..._

_Hate me in ways,_

_Yeah, ways hard to swallow,_

_Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you..._

When Sam woke up the next day, the first, terrifying thought that came to her mind was that it was all a dream. Freddie had never came back... They'd never made up... They'd never admitted that they were never able to fall in love with anyone else...

Then she turned around, and saw her fiancee sleeping right next to her. She smiled, and, for the first time in so many long years, she was happy.

Sam stroked Freddie's cheek, and he woke up. He sat up, yawned, and said, "Good morning."

Sam chuckled, and said, "Technically, it should be good _afternoon..._" She gestured to her clock, which read 2:06.

Freddie laughed, and hugged Sam. Sam wrapped her arms around him, as a gesture of forgiveness.

**Review please? Pretty please? Pretty please with a cherry on top? I like reviews. :)**


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